I sat down next to him, sighing a little and taking a drag on my clove. He'd tell me that it was bad for me, all in good time. I patted his shoulder, chuckling a little and clearing my throat. "My mom wanted me to tell you hi. I'll say you said it back even if you don't. It'll make her happy, ya know?"

I take another drag, blowing the smoke into the air. "It's odd, not having you talk back. But I understand. Something like that happens, you tend to lose your voice. I'm not making fun of you, so you don't have to get mad. I was just trying to make you feel better about not being able to reply. It's hard trying not to ask you questions. Like what happened, ya know? I mean, no one really knows and you can't talk to tell us. It sucks. I feel like... maybe this would be easier if I knew. Would it? I mean, would I want to know?"

Another drag and I don't bother letting the smoke drift down to my lungs. He's gonna tell me what's wrong, all in good time. "I just don't get it sometimes. All this bad stuff happens to good people. That's what everyone's been saying, but why? I mean, no one's even trying anymore. It's annoying. Don't you want people to keep trying? I know I would. That's me."

I'm getting close to the end. All in good time. "Ya know, people have stopped talking about it too. Maybe that makes you happy, but not me. I'd rather people kept talking about it, ya know? If they forget about it, or stop thinking about it, does that mean it's over? Do you want it to be over? I know I wouldn't. That's me again though. This sucks."

And the time comes. I take a look at the butt of the clove, noticing how far to the filter I got. Every time I come here, it takes less and less time to smoke one of them. I throw it to the side, then think better of it and grab it back. "I didn't come with flowers or anything. Are you gonna hate me if I leave this hear? Just until I can get to the store and buy carnations or something. I won't be able to come 'till next week. I'm sorry man." And I stand, holding back the lump in my throat like it's my heart and it probably is. I leave the butt on the top of the stone, finally taking a look at the inscription. The dates mostly. Just sixteen years. And three have passed already. It sucks. "I'm gonna get going."

My best friend lies six feet under. And a part of me wishes I was down there with him.